Defying Gravity
by Citrusfruitful
Summary: George and Fred Weasley have been best mates for as long as they could remember...maybe more than that.  However, when an unfortunate accident separates the two twins, Fred is determined to get him back, no matter what the costs.
1. Oh Snap

**Defying Gravity**

_George and Fred Weasley have been best mates for as long as they could remember...maybe more. However, when fate separates the two twins, Fred is determined to get him back, no matter what the costs._

**And this is my first time writing a fanfic! Oh dear... Please forgive me for occasional moments of cheesiness...**

**Rated K+, but it'll probably change soon.**

**WARNING! Slash! Incest! Flamers, stay back! **

**Here I go!**

George woke up with a start, crashing his head on the ceiling of his bunk.

"Bloody hell. Great way to start the morning."

Rubbing a forming bump on his forehead, he dragged himself out of bed, stumbling into the restroom. He grasped the faucet handle and relieved himself with the feel of cold water on his hair. A few seconds later, a loud thud resounded from the bedroom, accompanied with a wide variety of swears. Fred limped into the restroom, clearly hurt from the fall. His eyes followed

"George, you bozo. Hit your head again on the bloody bunk?"

George whisked around to see his twin smirking at him, eyeing the bump on his head. Scoffing, George protested against his clumsiness.

"You're the one who fell off the ladder aren't you? Must've hurt, and proves that you're the bozo, not me."

Smirking, Fred playfully knocked his brother over into the tub, and sprinted out the door, laughing uncontrollably. George hoisted himself up and chased after his twin, dripping with the soapy water at the bottom.

"**FRED!**"

He was halfway down the stairs until his furious (not to mention soggy) twin arrived at the front of the stairs. Fred spun around to run down the rest of the stairs until George jumped down and tackled him. A tangle of freckled limbs and red hair, they tumbled down the stairs, grunting and snickering in between. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, George yelped in pain as an unpleasant snap resounded in the room.

"Georgie? You okay mate?"

Fred untangled himself and laid his brother's head on his lap. Fred looked down in concern at his twin, noticing that the flesh around his ankle was purpling and swelling, not to mention out of shape.

"Merlin..We have to get you fixed!"

George's eyes fluttered open, and he groaned audibly as he began to feel the swelling.

"Mum and Dad aren't here, they went to that convention. Ron's with 'Mione and Harry on that trip or whatsoever. And Ginny-"

"-is busy snogging her boyfriend at his house."

Both gingers laughed silently at their habit, which had dated back to years ago. Back then, and even now, they had constantly annoyed their family by finishing each other's sentences. As if they'd been connected through their minds. Fred shook the memories away and hoisted his brother up, bridal style. George turned visibly red, and began squirming in his brother's arms.

"Fred? This is embarrassing! I'll be fine, let me down!"

"Nope, not letting you down. No one should be able to walk with that injury, even the best Muggle athletes."

Fred climbed the stairs once again, only with his twin in his arms.


	2. Daymares

Thanks to SakuraKiss96, the first ever reviewer of this story, and Gravind Divine! Sorry for the slow update. Despite the lack of reviews, I'm so happy you guys cared! :))))

The reason why I was slowing the update was because I was worried about the reception. "A bit of darkness thrown into the story might scare people off" was a thought that was on my mind for a few days. However, I'm brave, and I'll take a risk.

p.s: A fair warning to those who read the first chapter: it tends to get a little dark from now on. There will be absolutely no sibling corruption nor mental diseasing etc. What happens in this chapter will be explained in the following ones.

A bit of angsty and slightly violent dreams. A warning to those who dislike cheesy scripts and bad dreams.

"I still can't get it!"

Fred ran a frustrated hand through his red hair, trying not to bellow all the profanity in the world.

"Freddie, you don't have to. Episkey might help."

George winced as his ankle began pulsating, alternating between sickly shades of green, purple, and blue.

Fred felt his throat clog with tears as his twin writhed in pain. However, he had managed to steal-um-borrow a spell book from Percy's bedroom (it had been a beyotch to unlock). It contained hundreds of spells, but he hadn't been able to find the perfect one.

"Episkey is too weak! You know it's only for the stupid stuff. You know, like nosebleeds or skinned knees."

He flicked through the healing section for the fifth time until he found the description he needed: A magical splinter for all your broken and shattered parts (ego not included). Fred snickered at the cheesy joke and read the incantation.

"Um..Ferula?"

With an enormous bang, both twins went flying in both directions, Fred crashing into the wall, and George (luckily) landed in the nearby laundry basket. Fred groaned as he felt bruises form on his back, but all was forgotten when he heard his brother's yelps. Unfortunately, his ankle had landed right on the rim of the basket, slamming his Achilles heel. A few tears ran down his freckled cheeks, he was obviously holding his screams in. Fred darted over and picked him up, whispering apologies into his ear.

"Georgie, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for that to turn out like that."

"It wasn't your fault Fred. I'm telling you, you don't have to try so hard!"

A sudden pain stabbed him in the chest when he heard his words. Fred opened his mouth to reply, until a strange, tiny voice tugged at the back of his head.

'See Fred? He doesn't care that he's helping you. Why don't you just give up, and stop acting like a bloody boyfriend around him. Come on, trust me and let me lead the way.'

"Fred? You okay mate?"

He felt lightheaded and strange, like a cloud was encasing his mind. Unable to take the nausea, Fred stuttered, and slumped down with George in his arms. George panicked as his twin's eyes glazed over with a white sheen.

"Fred? Freddie? Snap out of it! Please!"

I can't hear anything.

"FRED! Wake up! What's going on? No! Wake up you git! Now!"

I don't want to.

"Don't you dare leave me! Stay awake!"

I already am leaving.

"Don't! Fred, it hurts, it hurts!"

Wait, what?

Forcing his eyes open, he couldn't help but cry out in horror of what he was seeing. George was on the ground, being strangled by his own hands. His foot was planted on his ankle, breaking it even further. An audible snap resounded, but George couldn't even scream. All that sounded from his throat were death chokes.

"Freddie..*cough*..stop.. It hurts!"

Fred tried to pry himself off, but his body wouldn't listen. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Even his tears were betraying him.

"Fred..."

With a final cough, George went limp in his hands, tears still running out of his cloudy eyes.

"NO! GEORGE!"

*bang*

"Bloody hell Fred. You're finally awake. And you haven't listened to my warning about that bunk."

Fred blinked and looked around. He was in George's bed, and his head was aching badly. George had made a improvised crutch from an old broomstick.

"Seriously, you were so heavy I actually considered leaving you on the ground. But since I'm such a nice brother.."

Laughing, he turned around, cleaning up the mess caused by the previous explosion. Fred hastily wiped away the tears that were running down his face. Before he saw.

'George is still alive.'

'A dream?'

All for now! Please, tell me your opinions. This story won't go as far as M (I am a horrible lemon writer, as I've never gone that far in any stories I've written.) but T for violence and maybe a tad bit of swears.

Reviews would be lovely, but not mandatory. I'm just glad if you read it and enjoyed it!

(p.s: the voice isn't Fred's inner mind. It is in fact, another person on the outside.)

DUN DUN DUN

-Citrusfruitful


	3. Seeing Red

And now for an honest opinion session: **I am rewriting the Harry Potter Series.**

Defying Gravity shall be my bigger priority but I'll also be updating this story.

The replacement of the **Golden Trio** (Harry, Hermione, Ron) will be **Albus Potter, Teddy Lupin, and Scorpius Malfoy**. **Any opinions on my choice? Opinions will be great. And any title ideas?**

No, I'm not crazy. We have to rewrite a series in English class as a long term project. Either a sequel, or a twist in plotline. I chose to write the sequel to the Harry Potter series, with the new generation.

Couples shall be straight. I want to stick to the bookverse as much as possible.

Honestly, I was excited, being the Harry Potter geek in the class.

And I've heard quite a lot about **Neville, Luna, and Ginny as the Silver Trio**, which I've always felt as a great team (except, I would have loved Seamus in the group) and our **Silver "Quartet"** will be: **Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, Rose Weasley, and James Potter.**

And WHY OH WHY is the new generation almost all Weasley? (it's not that I hate it, it just throws off my variety of characters.) I mean, let's see. Victoire, Hugo, Rose, Fred, Roxanne, Louis, Dominique, Molly, Lucy...I need to stop.

I hope you read and enjoy it!

And here's the third chapter!

As George limped around, picking up the debris, Fred took interest in a crack in the wall, trying not to make eye contact with his brother.

'Was it a dream?'

He stared at his hands. Small red marks of pressure lingered between the wrinkles of his fingers.

'But it all felt so real.'

And he could have sworn that the voice was of someone he knew. But his mind told him it wasn't a friend or an ally.

"Fred, get your lazy bum off the bed and help me!"

Fred looked up to meet his indignant twin who was impatiently tapping his foot against his crutch.

"Alright, gimme a second George."

George smiled jauntily and grabbed Fred's hand in a futile attempt to drag him off the bed. Annoyed, he looked down at his brother's hand, noticing the red marks. Fred's breath caught in his throat.

"What are these Fred? Bloody hell, have you been playing those Muggle games in your dreams again? Idiot."

Letting out a audible sigh of relief, Fred pulled his hand away and nodded.

"Those Gameboys always get me Georgie. Especially that Harry got his hands on a color version."

His brother cracked a grin.

"Bloody right you are Fred! It's in color! I mean, after all that black pixellated business, I can finally see some variety in the games, eh?"

Fred jumped to his feet, feeling rather lighter than before.

"Let's clean up then. You rest for a bit. I'll do the rest."

George nodded and thanked him before flopping on his bunk, rubbing his face into the pillow. A couple of minutes later, he began snoring. Rather loudly at that. Fred sighed and continued picking up the scattered remains of their Wheezes, Chocolate Frogs, and Quidditch trading cards they had collected since they were 5. Before he knew it, his eyes felt heavy, and he slowly began nodding off while shelving "Travels with Trolls". He was about to fall asleep until he heard a familiar voice snickering in his head.

"Really Fred, I would have gotten rid of him when I had the chance."

Fred whisked around in fury, swearing loudly as he searched the room for the source.

"C'mon Freddie. I'm in your head you know. And not so far away as you think."

"Damn you! What in Merlin's name were you thinking of making me do that?"

Fred questioned the anonymous voice, wondering if it was real all over again.

"That all depends on you Freddie. Why don't you check on your brother's neck, see how he's faring?"

The sudden anxiety drenched him like a cold shower. Shaking, he approached his sleeping twin, only to find prominent, angry red choke marks on his neck.

"Bloody hell! NO!"

Fred fell to the floor, trembling in fear. It hadn't been a dream. He really tried to kill George.

"Oh my God. I..Why didn't he tell me then?"

The voice sighed in obvious frustration.

"Can't you see? He cares about you too much, you idiot. He's too caring to admit you've almost killed him."

Another snicker. Damn him.

"No. It's not true. Get out of my head, and out of my bloody life you sick git!"

George shot up in his bed, crashing against the top bunk..yet again.

"Fred! Fred! What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Looking up, Fred saw his clearly confused twin staring down at him. He looked in the mirror across from the beds, noticing how disheveled he looked. His hands were entangled in his hair, and a cold sweat had broken all over his body. However, he wasn't in the mood to explain.

"Marks..Marks! The marks on your neck! I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

Darting out, Fred tried to slow his beating heart, and locked himself in the rest room. George, on the other hand, looked into the mirror. His neck was smooth and acne free as ever, there were no marks at all.

"What were you saying Fred? I'm as healthy as ever."

Shrugging it off as a joke, he laid back on his bed. However, Fred did sound serious. Almost hysterical even.

"He'll be back laughing. I'm sure it was an act."

Chuckling quietly, he felt sleep taking over once again, and he flopped over with his pillow, returning to dreamland.

Whew!

Now, are we curious of who this person might BEEEEEEEEEEE?

No! No! Wait until a few more chapters!

I'm horrible aren't I?

I hope you enjoyed it, and I absolutely love writing this!

And the next chapter...just might get interesting.

-Citrusfruitful


	4. Perfect

AGH! Sorry to the people who have been waiting!

I caught a bad cold. My voice sounds like...ugh.

And these school essays..man.

And new details: The Seven Potters chapter has passed since the beginning of this story. Therefore George does not have an ear.

**Fred/George Slash**

This story will have slash in future chapters.

No M rated stuff. No french kisses either (those often confuse me).

Just very heartwarming slash (that could easily be misinterpreted as brotherly love, giving Fred and George the advantage for hiding their relationship from their family)

And without further a do, here is the 4th chapter!

Retching into the sink, Fred looked into the mirror. His skin was pale and sweat rolled down his face. The face of a madman.

"I need to stay away from George. I need to, I need to."

But the more he stayed away from him, the more he wanted to see him. It was like that all the time. As if they were connected by a thread.

But he needed to cut it.

He was far too dangerous to be around.

'Perhaps Dad can solve it? No, he would reject me for what happened.'

He rinsed his mouth and washed the contents down the sink. He could hear his brother's peaceful snores from their room.

Little did they know that two shadowed figures were outside the Burrow.

"Yaxley, is it time? Is it time?"

One of the shadowed figure gleefully questioned the taller.

"Not yet Rookwood. He is still doubtful. We need to drag him in further. So that even his brother cannot pull him out."

"But why is he crucial to the plan? Why does the Dark Lord need him?"

Yaxley grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.

"He and his brother are connected to one of the most influential shops in Diagon Alley. Harry Potter believes the shop is a safe house. If one of them requests Potter's presence within the shop..well."

He paused and spat out a glob of spit.

"He's as helpless as a rat in a cage. It's one of the Dark Lord's alternative plans, as the assault that night failed."

Rookwood cringed as he remembered the flashes of red and green light in the skies.

"So let us wait. He is much weaker than his twin. He should be easy to destroy."

The two figures vanished into black smoke and swirled into the sky.

"Freddie? I'm not in the mood for jokes you know. Come out before I land a Dungbomb in the house."

George had woken from his nap and was limping around the house. Fred's heart skipped a beat as he heard his brother's voice. After hastily wiping the water from his mouth, he quickly stepped out of the washroom. George jumped at his brother's sudden appearance, as he happened to be passing by.

"Bloody hell, Freddie! Where were you? Blimey, thought you ran out of the house or something."

Fred forced a grin on his face and quickly replied, trying to stop his voice from cracking.

"Nothing really. Just felt a little unwell."

He looked towards George's neck. The red marks remained. Angry and dented. He could feel his stomach pushing up once more. He quickly turned around and slammed the door, and bent over again. George quickly tried to open the door, but it was locked.

"Freddie? You okay mate?"

George pressed his ear (or what was remaining of his ear) to the door, only to hear his brother's pained sobs, daubed with sounds of retching.

"Merlin, are you throwing up? Fred? Fred!"

Furious and worried, George pulled out his wand.

"Alohomora!"

The door clicked open, and George quickly entered the small room.

Fred was disheveled. His fiery hair was wet with sweat, and his usual happy glow was overcast. He looked grey, his skin was no longer healthy. Tear stains remained on his cheeks. George had never seen his twin like this before.

"Agh, George.. Get out of here you git."

But George stood his ground. He quickly kneeled, ignoring the pain in his ankle, and hugged his brother tightly. Fred froze, but stiffly turned around and hugged his brother back. He rubbed his face into George's shirt, and mumbled incoherent words as his twin held him close.

And for that one moment, everything seemed perfect.

And that is it for now!

I solemnly swear that I shall update AT LEAST once a week. If I go later than that, you have every right to throw rocks and mandrakes at me.

Cheers!

-Citrusfruitful


	5. Anything

Oh. My. God. I distinctly remember that I had 9 lovely reviews, but now I have 15. 15 I SAY!

And every single one of them are most heartfelt and sweet. I love you guys.

As I spazzed out from total happiness, I began furiously writing up new chapters! And a new system I'm thinking of trying is:

**I write multiple chapters over a long period of time and update them at once.**

**or**

**I write one chapter a week and update them once a week.**

Which one sounds more efficient?

Anyways, here's a new chapter! PLOT DEVELOPMENT (oh lookit me i just gave something away HOHOHO)

Merlin's beard, I should stop.

Let's go!

* * *

><p>"Molly dear, isn't it time we got back to the Burrow?"<p>

"Oh, stop being such a big baby Arthur! I'm sure the boys won't mind being alone for a few more days."

Mrs. Weasley continued to furiously shovel through the pile of pink ceramics.

She had barely convinced her husband to come to the Teaware Convention in the muggle world for a few days. They made a deal that Mr. Weasley had the right to enchant one of the teapots they bought at the convention in anyway he liked. But he had no idea that he would be stuck searching for "perfect teapots" with his wife.

Groaning, he quickly turned on his heel and headed towards the restroom. At least he could have some privacy from the wiggling mass of muggle women. The hallways were dimmed and empty. "No wonder, I'm the only man here." As he reached the black and white striped door, he froze as a pair of footsteps approached.

"Who's there?"

Before he could even react, bright flashes of red and blue hit him before the world turned black.

"Wonder what's taking mum and dad so long?"

George muttered between mouthfuls of ham and tomato, which they had managed to pry out of the pantry.

"Dunno. Maybe dad's run away from mum. No living man on earth can handle a massive ocean of bloody TEAPOTS."

They both snickered as thy imagined their poor father drowning amongst middle aged muggle women clutching bright, flowery teapots.

"Anyway, are you okay now? You seem pretty fine, now that you're eating."

Fred choked on his sandwich and averted his gaze from George's neck.

"Just indigestion. Nothing really serious."

His sandwich turned bitter in his mouth. Laying it on the table, Fred stood up and headed upstairs.

"Freddie? Are you okay?"

Fred stopped on the stairs and gripped the railing.

"Just, forget what I said before. Or whatever I did."

Confused, George tried to recall the recent situation that had played out a few minutes ago.

"Oh, you calling me a git? Merlin, never mind that, you were hysterical!"

But why? Why were you hysterical? What made you snap?

George staggered over and dragged himself upstairs after his twin's retreating back, determined for some answers.

"Wonderful, Rookwood. It's a relief we have saved an extra case of potion. We finally got something out of your dim head."

Rookwood grinned unpleasantly, and turned back to the two bottles of bubbling brown goo.

"Now, for the hair."

Yaxley turned to face two limp, bruised figures at his feet. They were both tied up with black sacks of cloth over their faces, concealing them indefinitely.

"Wake up. It's no fun to have the victims sleeping."

He gave a wild kick to the larger's torso and a sharp stomp on the other's arm, causing both to convulse in pain. As the larger twisted and turned in a futile attempt to stand the agony, he managed to twist the sack off.

Red hair.

"Yaxley! What is the meaning of this idiocy!"

Age was taking over his features, but that seemed to heighten the hatred in his eyes to a whole new level. He turned to the body next to him and crawled over desperately.

"Molly! Molly, are you alright?"

No answer. Mr. Weasley panicked as his wife fainted once more, unable to take the darkness and the suffocating stench of the potion.

"Now now, stay still and we'll make this as painless as possible."

"And you and your wife might be able to see sunlight again. Well, I'm not saying for sure. Just raising the bar by - say - 1%?"

Rookwood cackled at his own sharp remark.

Mr. Weasley glared at his captors, and gazed at his wife one more time before doing the most idiotic thing in the history of Weasleys.

"YEARGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

Yelling at the top of his lungs, he barreled into Yaxley's stomach, knocking the wand out of his hand. Picking it up with his teeth, he tried to squirm away from the now advancing Rookwood.

"Damn you! Crucio!"

Just as he saw some hope, he slumped to the ground in pain as it dug into every inch and fiber of his body, rotting his very consciousness away. He felt faint, and the world began to fade to black.

"Geroff me you git! That tickles!"

Fred snickered as his twin tried to push his arms off.

"Not until you give my Chocolate Frog collection back!"

"There's no way! Do you have any idea how many limited edition cards you have? SHARE!"

With a loud battle cry, Fred tickled his brother's neck and feet to no end as endless laughter filled the living room. George's face turned redder than a tomato as he laughed harder and harder. With his remaining ounce of strength, George flipped his twin off and limped into the kitchen with the pack of cards still tucked in his jacket pockets.

"OI! Come back here!"

*click*

Both twins froze and their identical heads turned towards the door. Fred looked towards his brother and silently mouthed 'It's them!' George nodded, and at Fred's silent count of three, they flopped onto the couch and quickly turned on the radio as if the chase had never happened.

"Boys? We're home."

A tired and scruffy pair of redheads staggered in, their clothes strangely dirtier than both boys remembered them.

"Mum! Dad! What took you?"

Mrs. Weasley glanced at Mr. Weasley, who cleared his throat.

"Bit of traffic. Got caught in questioning by some passing patrols from the Ministry."

The boys looked at each other in confusion. Voldemort - He-who-shall-not-be-named - should have been patrolling for Harry in secret. There was no way patrols could have caught any passerby's, even their father, who on top of all that, was a member of the actual Ministry. Something was wrong. Fred quickly nodded at his twin, who took the signal and kickstarted a conversation with his parents.

"Mum, me and George took care of the house mighty well, didn't we? I mean, bloody hell, not a scratch! Um, y'know, if you don't count the teapot and the saucepan from Aunt Trudy, that we can explain..."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes were unusually dark, and George was squirming around and fidgeting with his makeshift cane. Her eyes surveyed the household, strangely unfamiliar with the warm, yet topsy-turvy interior. She averted her gaze back to George, who visibly flinched, expecting a scolding about the saucepot and the teapan...teapot and saucepan! He could hardly think because something was off. However, Mrs. Weasley broke into an all too friendly smile, and sweetly asked;

"When is Harry coming back? Me and your father are anxious to see him again!"

George froze. No, these weren't his parents. Not at all. Cold sweat broke over his back and he felt his hands and feet grow cold. Where was Fred? He looked all around himself. Nothing. He looked up. Stifling a gasp, he quickly looked down again. A familiar ear was hanging from a thread on the staircase.

"INCOMING!"

A smoking Dungbomb fell from the third floor and exploded with a wild bang. Dark, stinky smoke filled the room. Coughing, George tried to search for something to hold onto. Suddenly, an arm shot out and grabbed his hand. Relieved, he tried to survey the figure's face.

"Fred?"

As he took a closer look, he recoiled in horror. The same face..That face!

"Yaxley!"

Grinning his yellow-toothed smile, he forcefully dragged George across the room.

"NO!"

Fred jumped from the staircase and tackled Yaxley to the ground, easily freeing George. He shielded his brother, who was squeezing his fists due to his purpling ankle.

"Don't you lay on damn finger on my brother, you git!"

Yaxley stood up, swaying from the assault, but nevertheless, smiled.

"Why don'tcha look behind you before you confirm that?"

"FRED!"

Before he could react, a bright flash of red knocked him down, and he felt his joints harden, as if he was encased in ice.

"Fred! Dammit, let me go! Fred!"

Ugh.

"Fred! Don't! Don't you dare touch him! No!"

All at once, the world cut off like a broken telephone wire. It just flashed. And just stopped. In the end, all attempts were useless. The Dungbomb disabled him rather than helping the two escape.

Why?

Could it have changed anything?

Is he okay?

.

.

.

.

.

Was there anything I could have done about it?

* * *

><p>Ugh. This chapter, I am disappointed in. Lousy action, lousy dialogue, LOUSY LOUSY LOUSY :(((((<p>

Please forgive me. This chapter was fueled purely on review spazzing out and 4 cans of ginger ale.

I'll try harder next time ;) But those who think this chapter was okay, I LOVES YOU.

See you next week!

-J.Y (Citrusfruitful)


	6. Orange Smokescreen

_"Give it back! Give it back!"_

_"Aw, poor Ronnie wants his dear Teddy back? Should we? Whaddya think Fred?"_

_"I agree-NOT! Give it over here!"_

_"NO! Don't touch him! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I broke your broomstick, now GIVE HIM BACK!"_

_"Uh..I don't know any magic Georgie!"_

_"Make something up! Ronald needs to pay the price!"_

_"Spidery arachnid teddy bear?"_

_"You git, that won't work-"_

_"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

* * *

><p>George woke to the sickening stench of unwashed carpeting. His head was ringing from the dream he just had. That was probably the first time Fred demonstrated better talent than him. With great success, the once furry teddy bear had transformed into a very hairy-not to mention ugly-spider. Oh, the sheer pleasure of watching Ron wet his pants was one of the greatest accomplishments of the twins'.<p>

Wait, this isn't the time to get all sentimental.

George shook away the foggy dream sequence and looked around. A murky green carpet covered a long hallway that seemed to stretch endlessly. Terribly tacky antiques lined the halls with rotting flowers accompanying the dreadful combination. Ugh, and the smell-

"Good morning princess."

George yelped as Rookwood kicked him over, causing him to realize that his hands and feet were bound. Not with just any rope, but magically strengthened ones. His aching head screamed for attention as the pain shot through his back.

"Careful, Yaxley. We mustn't hurt our beloved guest, should we? In fact, we should give him a warm welcome."

Yaxley carefully removed his gloves, with such dignity that it was disgusting. Before he could react, a sharp lash of pain stung George on the cheek, amplifying his headache.

"There. All better."

Rookwood laughed like a madman and scurried up to Yaxley.

"When shall we do it? When?"

George looked up at the two gruesome Death Eaters in pain and fury. Where was his brother?

"Where's Fred? If you gits did anything to him, you'd better prepare for a beating, you disgusting bastar-"

Another lash of pain. George yelped again, but managed a deathly glare at Yaxley.

"Our guest is misbehaving. As punishment, we'll be starting the plan much sooner than expected. Rookwood. You know what to do."

Giggling like a child on Christmas morning, he dug his fingers all too enthusiastically into George's hair. George cringed as he felt dirt and unwanted mites skitter onto his scalp. However, without warning, he tugged his hand up abruptly with glee, ripping a well-sized clump of orange. Giving a scream of pain, small drops of blood trickled from his uprooted scalp.

"That's enough. Drop it in."

Between his tear and blood soaked eyes, he managed to catch sight of a bottle being extracted from Yaxley's sleeve.

Polyjuice? No, not that again. They must've used it to disguise themselves..

He watched as his hair was dropped in. The potion fizzed, and turned a pleasant, yet playful orange yellow. Rookwood grinned and downed the potion in one gulp.

Oh no.

To his horror, Rookwood began changing into himself, or Fred, or whatever people saw him as. The familiar orange hair and slim frame. In seconds, there stood a perfect duplicate of himself, other than the stench, and the Death Eater rags.

"And the other bottle?"

Wait, what other bottle? Rookwood, in his new disguise, handed over a few strands of measly hair. Yaxley extracted yet another bottle, and dropped the hairs in. This time, the liquid turned to a disgusting shade of dark brown, gaining the viscosity of mud. Holding the steaming bottle, Yaxley slowly began approaching George.

"No, you can't be serious. NO!"

George tried to squirm away, but Yaxley was quick (he was untied of course). Grasping George's face with his sharp nails, he stuffed the bottle in his mouth and forced the liquid down.

He was changing. He looked in the mirror behind him, and only could see his face, somewhere in between George Weasley and Rookwood. Morphed, his nose was unbalanced, his teeth were mixes of browns, whites, and yellows, and his two eyes were fighting for color dominance. Too horrifying to watch anymore, George lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

"Aw, the princess fell asleep. Or rather, Rookwood did.."

The last thing he saw after Yaxley's smile, was his brother's face flashing by his eyes.

"Fred..."

* * *

><p>...Hi.<p>

*scurries into corner*

It's been a while. (about 3 months?)

*covers face with hands*

Ahem. It's summer break now. And I am sorta free. Hehe.

My writer's block has been released, and I've finally gotten the plot line down. This is going to take quite a few chapters.

And I need your opinion. To what level should I take this "twincest" to? Many of my friends want me to write lemon (never. never. never.) while some want me to lose the actual twincest itself. But their brotherly love actually is the theme that pushes the plot. The cest's been toned down to a minus one.

I need your opinions. Okay, or not okay?

-Citrusfruitful


	7. Through The Looking Glass

How is everyone? (facepalm).

Most stupid hiatus ending question ever. Updates, my arse. I'm so sorry about the 4 month? gap. I just left my favorite twins hanging on a horrible cliffhanger..

Just kill me. Just avada kedavra me. I left this hanging for so long. AGH.

I just became an ex-pat (someone who's still a citizen but moved) from Korea to Brazil! Crazy right? The only good thing is Florida is definitely closer, which means THE WIZARDING WORLD OF HARRY POTTER IS A HELL LOT CLOSER. I can't wait to get my hands on a butterbeer.. Now, enough of my sob story.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"Fred..."

A smoky fog covered a figure, whose features seemed to be melting into some demented form. In the fog, all that Fred could make of him was the familiar yellow and orange jumper that George wore on days they pranked the Honeydukes customers. Slowly, like a curtain, the fog cleared, revealing..

"Rookwood?"

The hideous transformation, still wearing his brother's favorite jumper, lurched forward, pleading for help in Rookwood's disgusting voice.

"Freddie..help me..it's me!"

"Get back, you freak. Where's George?"

With a hard shove, he pushed the sobbing Yaxley onto the strange, blue floor. He had no idea where he was. As the ugly death eater tried to get up, Fred scanned his surroundings, and found himself staring at George.

"George! There you are, I thought you.."

As he reached out in relief towards his brother, George mimicked his actions. Strange. Ignoring this, he continued forward, only to feel his fingertips touch cold glass. A mirror.

His reflection.

Staggering back, he looked to the right of the mirror. Rookwood's reflection was none other than George. Staring in disbelief, Fred could only stammer. Tears still dripping down his freckled cheeks within the mirror, George whispered something, barely audible.

"I thought you'd be different."

The fog turned a deathly black, separating him from his brother and the mirror.

"Wait! No!"

Fred shot up, cold sweat practically engulfing him.

"What the hell was that?"

Whatever the dream was, it was vividly real, and cold and foreboding, like it was trying to tell him something.

Wait. What just happened?

He surveyed his surroundings in panic. He had woken up on the family rug, torn and smoking from the strong impact of the Weasleys' homemade dungbomb. Most of the furniture around him was black with ash.

'If mum saw this, we'dve been dead in 10 seconds flat'

He cracked a grin at the thought, only to have heavy reality crashing back down. Where were his parents?

And most of all, WHERE WAS GEORGE?

Being alone never felt this horrible. George had always been there. When he thought about it, he had never been alone. They had always been together. And now he was truly, alone.

Wow. Such a crappy and emo chapter. Sorry, I feel that my writing has gotten a bit rusty. That'll get better over the chapters.

This doesn't necessarily contribute to the story. This is a short intermission for events yet to come. I didn't want to jump into more action after poor Freddie was turned into...well..

But it is true, I don't think Fred nor George ever experienced being alone in their lives, thanks to having each other.

Till next time! Cheers with extra butterbeers!


End file.
